1

Table of Contents
1. The King of Spades, by Valentine Durand p. 2 2. Your past will always catch up with you, by Nina Nowak p. 6 3. The second face of William Mersch, by Mathilde Rouve, p. 10 4. A Domestic Dispute, by Lou Aubay 5. All the happiness was within her, by Alicia Do 6. Blue eyes and fire, by Diane Bismuth 7. A matter of life and death, by Jules Roux 8. A dinner to die, by Enki Saura 9. First Kill, by Helene LeCorre 10. The trainees Spider, by Pauline Brosseron p. 14 p. 18 p. 22 p. 25 p. 30 p. 33 p. 36

The King of Spades

byValentine Durand

The

inspector was sitting on his bed, in his hotel room, plunged in darkness. It was around two oclock, and he couldnt sleep. He put his head in his hands, and sighed.

He couldnt stop thinking about this case, which was torturing him. He couldnt forget those seven victims. Forty-year-old-men, who all had something in common: three children. They were all found dead, two blocks from their apartment, in a depot; the bodies were always arranged in cross, a dagger in their heart, and the same card in the right hand: a king of spades. And there was also a letter, with the final unforgettable words, Catch me if you can. This case was haunting his mind, he couldnt think about anything else, he couldnt even sleep; it was exhausting him. The police didnt have any clue, and the murders were multiplying. The inspector took a long breath and looked around him, before lying down. He had decided to switch on the TV when his assistant called. She was asking him to come as soon as possible: another body had been discovered. He hung up and sighed again; then he got dressed, and left his room to take his car. On his way, he was thinking about the nightmare this case was. When he arrived, his assistant showed him the crime scene and the dead body, arranged

3 just like the others: the cross, the dagger, the card, the empty place. Nothing seems different. whispered the inspector. He was wrong, something had changed: there was a witness. When he first saw the man, the inspector was a bit surprised: he was small, plump, and everything in him was awkward, particularly his movements. He looked so lost that the inspector first believed it was some kind of joke. However, the fact that someone had seen the murder made him forget that idea; he decided to focus on the possible chance to catch him. He was their only hope, their only chance. The inspector asked the witness to follow him and drove him to the police station in order to question him about what he had seen. When they arrived, he took him to a small room and invited him to sit. The witness seemed shaken, and scared; he was looking at the inspector with awe, and was digging his nails into his palms. The inspector, who was counting on the information that he might be able to give, tried to reassure him: he gave him a glass of water and asked him to relax. When the witness seemed calmer, the inspector took some sheets to note down the information and started the interrogation: Lets start. Could you first tell me your name, and maybe your profession? Well, my name is Robert Smith and Im a locksmith. answered the witness mechanically. Now, could you explain what you saw last night, and what were you doing there at that time? Well, this afternoon someone called me, the owner of the depot where you know, where that happened. His lock was broken, so he called me to come and fix it. I finished what I was doing, went to another client and then I went to the depot. I was taking out my tools, when I heard some footsteps. I dont really know why, but I took fright; so I quickly picked up my tools and decided to hide behind a large desk, where no one could see me. Then a man came into the

room, holding a huge bag he dropped on the floor. He extracted a dead body from it, and

4 arranged the corpse in a strange way, before driving a dagger in his chest. After that I was so petrified, I stopped looking and stayed behind the desk until the police arrived. Did you see the aggressor? Well, not clearly As you know I was hidden, so I couldnt see much of the scene, and it was a dark place so its hard to tell I could say that he is tall, and he has a dreadful laugh. The inspector noted this down, and frowned. Then, he continued: Have you heard about this serial killer that lately murdered seven men? Yes, but only in newspapers. He may be the murderer of the crime you saw. Robert Smith seemed a bit stunned. Nothing like that had ever happened to him, actually nothing ever happened to him. He had always been the invisible person: no one ever noticed him. Even his parents stopped noticing him one day, as he was too ordinary. But that day, everything was about to change. He had been the witness of a murder, and not just any. Indeed, it was a famous serial killers work! He might be the only one who was grateful for this. This time he would have something to tell his family, his friends, he wouldnt be the one who just listened. Hiding his smile, he looked at the inspector and replied: Im sorry I couldnt help you more. As I said it was dark, and I was terrified. Dont worry, you gave us what you could, and it might be useful in the future. Do you have any other question you would like to ask me? The inspector hesitated, and sighed. Unless you forgot to tell me something, that would be all. Thank you again for your help. As the witness was about to stand up, the inspector muttered I dont think we ever will catch this man. And for the first time Robert Smith couldnt restrain himself from smiling;

he looked at the inspector, who was staring at him, and flaunted a big smile. Then he saluted

5 the inspector, and left the police station, still smiling, free forever. He knew at this moment that he would never be caught. The inspector, stunned, took a few minutes to understand that he had just let the real murderer run away. He tried to catch him up, but it was too late. He was gone forever.

Your past will always catch up with you

by Nina Nowak
Nate wrote the address on a paper, then he turned off the computer. Tomorrow, he would go to the library and apply for the job. Living on literature. This had been his dream ever since he was a little boy...and now, he had a chance to fulfill this dream. He was ready. He could start from scratch and forget the past. Forget his terrible past... The images came back to his mind. He saw the girl he had killed, the fear in her eyes and he heard her screaming. His heart started to beat rapidly and his vision suddenly blurred; it became difficult for him to breathe. Then he tried to convince himself: "It's okay. I'm not insane anymore, no woman is suffering because of me. Im not insane. My past is behind me. I take medicine now, and I live as a quite normal person. I'm a good person. Im a good person. " After a while staring to the emptiness, he went to bed. The next day, he woke up early in order to be ready for his job interview. He was totally stressed - what if he did not have the job? He couldn't fail. That's why he had left New York and settled down in Paris: to succeed. He had a string of priors in the USA - and they were not

7 misdemeanours. Luckily, no one had ever discovered the body of that woman, and he had left the country before the police started investigating. Arrived in France, he had changed his identity and had taken medicine for his mental illness. After having breakfast quickly, he left home and went to the old library located in a little street near his flat. Excitement was mixed up with anxiety in his mind. He rehearsed the sentences he had prepared. When he arrived, he waited for the person in charge of interviewing him. After a few minutes, she arrived. And it was her. She had the same expression in her eyes. But it couldn't be her...she was dead. Finally, with a beaming smile, she asked in a perfect English: "Good morning. Are you Mister Bamford?" Her voice was soft as a stroke. Nate could have spent the whole day listening to this woman. "Yes, I am" he answered. She showed him to a little room with a wooden desk and offered him to sit on a comfortable armchair. He gazed at her for a long time. She had long and dark hair, her eyes were brown and clear. Her slim waist emphasized her beautiful chest. Her skin was white and her mouth red just as SnowWhite. She was wonderful, and she resembled the other woman... Embarrassed, she said: "So... My name is Cameron Fleezy. I'm the manager of this great library. Can you tell me more about you?" Then Nate gave her some information about him, and they talked for one hour. Nate was falling in love. He knew it was the worst thing that could happen. The first time, it had caused a death... But he couldn't control it at all. When he came back home, it started again. This was the beginning of something terrible. He tried to increase the dose of the medicine, but it didn't work. He was crazy. His mental illness was coming back; he lost control on his mind. He wasn't aware of reality anymore. Unable to wait for their next meeting, he started thinking about a way of getting in touch with her. Being with her...he would be the happiest man on earth. He would tell her how much he loved her, and they would get married and have some beautiful babies. Everything would be perfect. He smiled. He hadn't been that happy for a long time.

8 He waited for three days. It was the perfect time. No more, no less. He went to Cameron's place. She left home a few minutes later. While she was walking, he stopped her taking her left arm so violently that she jumped back. "Oh my God! Why did you do that? You frightened me!" she said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. In fact I wanted to see you - I have something to tell you." he replied strangely. "Oh! Err...yes, of course. Please, lets go to a caf." "No, I can't. I have to tell you something right now." "Are you okay? You...you look different..." He suddenly caught her arm strongly. She screamed. "W-what are you doing? You're hurting me! Please! "I love you, Cameron. I'm crazy about you. I can't stop thinking of you, you're on my mind all the time, I can see your smile in my dreams. When I look at you, I know we are meant for each other. Our story had been written in the stars since the beginning of the world. I know you feel the same, you can't hide your feelings." "You are crazy! Let me go! Let me go! Please, I need help!" she screamed in panic. As some passers-by began to react, Nate ran away. "She totally denies the obvious. Why cant she realize she loves me?" he wondered.

The next night he decided to go to her place. He arrived there at midnight, hoping she wasn't sleeping, otherwise he would wake her up softly. He checked that he still had his knife. "She will love me" he thought. He smashed down the door - too easy for him - and went upstairs. She was in her bedroom, reading his favourite book; it was a sign. Before she could say anything, he put his hand over her mouth and told her in her ear "I love you" again. All of a sudden, he brandished his knife and stabbed her. Then he snatched her heart and kept it in his

9 hand. "From that moment, you will be mine forever." He put it in his pocket cautiously and took the book she was reading, called "Your past will always catch up with you".

10

THE SECOND FACE OF WILLIAM MERSCH

by Mathilde Rouve

can't remember the moment Mr. Smith called me. He was terrified, he asked me for help. He suspected one of his employees to be the perpetrator of all those recent crimes. I'm

not sure I just can't recognize him these days. He is tired all the time, he doesn't work as he used to. On top of that, yesterday, I was looking for some paper work in his drawer, when I found a knife. Maybe I'm making a fuss about it, but I'm really worried. What if it was him and he took it out on someone working here I don't want to take any risk. You have to look for clues. I made the deal, and the investigation started. I looked for his name, address, and followed him. He was called William Mersch and lived in the suburbs of New York. He was a tall man, looked nice and well dressed. Until one in the morning, nothing unusual happened. He cooked, had a shower, watched some stupid show on TV and went to bed. At twenty-two past one a.m., he went out, and walked along the alley. He went inside someone's house, just two

11 streets further along, I could neither see nor hear anything as I was too far away. I came closer, but he had already disappeared. I didn't see him for the rest of the night. Then I saw him through a window, with nothing on, just pants. His chest was cut, and he had a little tattoo of a name on his arm. The following day, I bought a newspaper, and read that a crime had occurred the night I saw him outside. It was exactly the house he had been to. What a coincidence! I decided to stand in front of William's house, I waited, and after a while he went out, I went to talk to him. Hi Mr. Mersch, sorry to bother you, I'm Inspector Marson. I'm investigating the serial killer who has murdered many people recently. The last victim lived just near your house. She was Elizabeth Marluy. Did you know her? Lili ? Yes of course I know her! Is it a joke? She was my best friend! I used to go to her house every night, just to talk, and watch a movie She can't be dead. Who could be so awful as to harm my Lili? I read it in the newspaper, I'll go to the crime scene right after our conversation. Did Elizabeth have something to hide? Was she angry with someone? No, I don't think so, she was that kind of girl who can't stop smiling. And one last question. When did you go to her house for the last time? Let me think The last time was two days ago, but I was supposed to see her tonight. I can't believe it. I walked away, he was lying. He was guilty, there weren't any other options, but I didn't have any evidence. I saw him at her place last night, and he lied to me telling me the complete op posite. I went to the crime scene, I saw her body, lying on the floor, she had been stabbed in her stomach. There was a pool of blood on the floor. I knew who the murderer was. However, I couldn't say anything before I had proved it.

12 The medical examiner told us the victim had been killed at around two in the morning. Once again that matched what I thought. William was the murderer. I had to watch him to night. I would stay at the same place as yesterday. Fortunately, he went out, again at around two in the morning. I followed him, and decided to directly talk to him Hi there, let me guess, you're an insomniac ? , I said putting my hand on his shoulder. He started hitting me. I called for help. He hit me harder. That's when I understood everything. It was just so logical, I couldn't believe I had not found out earlier. The pyjamas, the lying, the violence He was a sleepwalker. Everything he did was done unconsciously. I called my friend Smith, and told him the whole story, he couldn't believe me. He asked me for a last favour: question him once again. I agreed to do so and went and rang William's doorbell. He immediately answered and invited me in for tea. I came in, he had a lovely house. We spent a long time together, he was kind to me. I couldn't imagine he was the murderer, but I knew he was. I asked him about his past My life is complicated at the moment. My wife died two years ago, she was murdered. I can't stop thinking about her. She was amazing. And my best friend isn't part of my life anymore, I'm alone, she was the only one able to keep me warm. There's nothing now he claimed. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know whether to tell him what I already knew or just let him continue talking. I was shocked, but I decided to relate everything to him. Look William, you seem to be a nice guy and I'm sorry to have to tell you this but you've got a serious problem? I know you killed Elizabeth, I followed you that night. What? You don't think I'm a murderer, do you? Do you remember your last nightmare? Not at all. Why?

13 I think you're a sleepwalker. And your crimes are committed unconsciously. You have a serious disease. I'm sorry but you have to come with me to the police station. I felt miserable, inside, he was a good man. And I knew one day, hed become a better man, but after his prison term !

14

A DOMESTIC DISPUTE
by Lou Aubay

It

was a cold December night. I was working hard and late these days. Time was rushing by fast. I had the feeling I had neither time for me nor for the others. My best friend

Jessica and I hadn't been in touch since the end of September. Every day I wanted to call her. Being apart from her was so hard. However I didn't even have a minute to myself. Furthermore my marriage was falling apart. I could feel that John was sick of me, he had no loving care, no "I love you", nothing. My social life was being destroyed and I was feeling more and more depressed. That night was our wedding anniversary and I had decided to have a serious talk with him. It couldn't end this way, I couldn't let it happen. When I reached home, I took a deep breath to give myself courage and walked in. There he was, completely slumped on the couch, holding a beer, watching TV. I couldn't believe it. I gazed at the room, no settled table, no candles, music or bottle of champagne. Was he doing it on purpose? Or had he just forgotten? I couldn't help but wonder.

15

"Hi, honey! Are you okay?" I said nicely. At first he didn't answer. "Honey, did you have a good day?" I added, insisting. "I want a divorce." He replied. I was stunned. What I had feared the most was happening. I staggered and sat on the chair near the couch. I knew our marriage was suffering, but I didn't thought it could go that far. "May I ask why?" I said mumbling. "I do not love you anymore, our marriage is over" he answered heartlessly. All the stress I had accumulated during the few last days began to rush through all my body, and began to turn into this uncontrollable rage. He had absolutely no right to do this to me. How could he not even try? After ten years of marriage. I was furious. I stood up and shouted at his face "How could you say this, that way, as if you didn't care !" "You are a selfish woman, obsessed with you work and your own little person. You are not capable of loving anyone. The woman I thought you were is just an illusion. I should never have married you" he said sharply. It was too much for me, I couldn't take it anymore. I could not let this horrible man humiliate me this way. I brandished the candle stick on the coffee table, next to the couch, and hit him, right in the head, as hard as I could. He had this terrible look in his big brown eyes, he stumbled and fell right to the floor. I waited for him to get up, but he didn't, he stood there motionless. The candlestick fell to the floor and I kneeled down next to John, begging him to wake up. I shook him, again and again. I couldn't feel his pulse, he was dead. I stayed there, speechless for at least half an hour. What had I done? Was this really happening to me? I tried to calm down, but it was impossible. My husband's body was lying in a pool of blood and I was the cause of this disaster. What a horrible person I was.

16

I thought, and thought for hours. I thought about calling the police, but they would arrest me, pitilessly, without even trying to understand the reason of my actions. I couldn't face prison. I thought of burying the body, in the woods maybe. I could leave now, carrying a shovel and everything would be over. But at some point I would get caught. I had to find a solution and very quickly. I came to the conclusion that I had to call Jessica, she had been my best friend since college. We had no secrets. I knew I could rely on her. It was two A.M., but she would usually stay up very late, and I couldn't wait until the morning. I picked up the phone and called her. The two minutes she took to answer were probably the longest minutes of my life. "Hi Suzy! Oh my God it's been such a long time, I have so much to tell you, including very good news. You are going to be so proud of me!" she said very excitedly. The second she started talking I burst out into tears. I wanted to listen to her but I needed to evacuate the horrible feelings I had kept hidden during these long hours. "Are you okay sweetie?" she added. I didn't know how to say this. How do you tell someone you've just intentionally killed your husband? I sat in the couch, and tried to think about the best way to tell Jessica. "You are worrying me Suzy, tell me what is wrong." her voice was so reassuring. She always had this effect on me, she was able to calm me in no time. I started telling her my horrible story. I forgot no details. I told her about the horrible things he had told me, how he had forgotten our wedding anniversary and how I had lost control and committed an impulsive gesture. I then suddenly realized I had been speaking for at least an hour when she had big news to announce. I was being selfish. "What's your big news Jess?" I spontaneously asked.

17

"Oh well, I found a new work, something I am really passionate about." she said calmly, as if all I had said had had no impact on her. What a good friend she was. I knew she wouldn't judge me. I had done the right choice calling her. "Oh tell me all about it." I responded, trying to change the subject. "Well...I have been recruited as a criminal inspector"

18

All the happiness was within her

by Alicia Do

The
deep breath.

Inspector eyed the woman sitting in front of him. She might be in her late fifties and yet still looked very beautiful for her age. Elegant clothes, delicate features, there was a hint of sadness and resignation in her eyes that could only He made her come to question her about the unexplained suicide of her

suggest she had had the worst tragedies in her life. daughter, found dead, hanging from the ceiling light of her bedroom. Would you like to tell us Madam, about everything you know on your daughters life? We are trying to understand the reason for this act of despair. The ladys eyes brightened, filled with tears; her mouth twitched as she took a I cannot understand inspector, all the happiness was within her! Elisabeth had a caring husband with a sound financial situation, who loved her so and whom she loved, had an exciting job and, was at least pregnant after so many years of waiting! I can still hear her jovial laugh on the phone. Mum, please, dont ask me to stop working now, Im only four months pregnant! Really, believe me, Im perfectly fit and Im blossoming in my job! No, I really dont understand. Dont you think her husband could have had a secret relationship with another woman? Oh no, I sincerely dont believe this. Jean was a perfect husband. He was

19 attentive, loving, accomplice. My daughter kept telling me how lucky she was to have met him and married him. The only shadow in this picture of absolute happiness was their unfulfilled wish to have a child after already five years of marriage. When they found out that she was pregnant, they were overjoyed, especially Jean. No, I have no doubt on the sincerity of her husbands love. Indeed. the inspector sighed. You know that her husband is currently being hospitalized in state of shock. He was still at work at that time and apparently has nothing to do with this tragic event. Furthermore, I questioned her colleague, the last person who spoke to your daughter, a few hours before this tragedy. This young lady assured me the last impression she kept in mind of your daughter was that of a happy woman, optimistic about her future projects. The inspector stood up and held out his hand to the woman. Well, Madam, thank you for your time. I think we are going to stick to the conclusion of our forensic scientist: A sudden crisis of dementia, it seems that this kind of crisis can happen to pregnant women. The woman shook the inspectors hand and stood up from her chair. I trust your experts, she murmured, but a sudden crisis of dementia seems so unlikely. I know my daughter very well; you cant actually find another more balanced woman than her, she was the life and soul of the party She was about to turn her back and walk away, hesitated for an instant, and suddenly heaved a huge sigh. Even in difficult circumstances, when very young, she gave birth to her first baby. Her first baby? the inspector asked, holding his breath. Yes, but thats a very old story, and long forgotten now. Would you like to tell me about it? Well, it happened a very long time ago, an eternity it seems to me, thats why I didnt think this story could be of any particular interest to you. Elisabeth was seventeen. We were living in a small dump, fifty kilometers away from Bordeaux. She had a boyfriend, a flighty guy, who made her have a baby and quickly shoved off! However, far from being depressed, Elisabeth courageously raised her child while continuing her studies with our help. Id say that she found her priceless courage in all the love she felt for her son. Her child was her reason for living. She called him my little man, and was so happy Then this tragedy happened

20 What happened? Her son had just turned two. He went to play in the garden. It was a warm summer day. Elisabeth found him later, dead, the head stuck between two bars of the hedge. The shock was too hard, she lost consciousness at once. When she finally woke up, nature worked wonders, she suffered from a total amnesia of this accident. Following the doctors advice, we settled in Paris at the first opportunity to allow Elisabeth to restart a whole new life in a better environment that would not remind her of her past. And for the last ten years, Ive never told her about this accident, considering it would just be useless for her future. Then you know the story, after her studies she married and was leading a happy life without any concerns. *** Long after the old woman has gone, the inspector remained still, his hand on his forehead, thinking about what she had just revealed him. Suddenly, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. Hello Mrs. MARTIN, this is inspector DUCROS. I would like to know more about your last conversation with Elisabeth MENIER, on your way back home, just before her suicide. You were telling me she was speaking about the work projects in her apartment. What was it exactly about? Well, she was telling me about her idea of closing the terrace, opening on her future babys bedroom, a kind of veranda with a bay window to build him a playing area for later. These were her last words? Nothing else? Let me see... oh yes, just before leaving, she turned to me, smiling broadly. Im so proud of my idea! That would make another room to my baby! Ill speak about it to Jean this evening, Im sure hell be so excited. Thats such an excellent idea! I replied. Your baby will be in better safety then, because with a balcony, he could easily fall over, or he might even get his head stuck between the bars!

21

Blue eyes and fire

by Diane Bismuth

My

name is Mike Wilson. I'm twenty-five and I have a secret. I'm a murderer.. I know what you're thinking.. But I'm not a bad guy! It's just that I can't control myself. It's like a

need.. I just can't stop killing women I feel guilty every time. I even cry. But I really can't stop, and I don't know why.

My name is Bob Taylor. I'm an inspector and I hate my job. My wife divorced two years ago. She found out I was cheating on her. My children don't talk to me anymore. They think that I'm too boorish. I don't care, I hate them. I hate everyone. I hate life. I just love ring doughnuts.

I live in New York. It's a beautiful city but I'm from San Diego and I miss my home. I had to escape when I first killed someone. She was my girlfriend. We were nineteen. We were young and ardent. She was my first love. One day, we went to see a movie. As we were on the way home, she looked at me with her wonderful blue eyes and told me that she loved me. I was filled with joy. I was really happy, but

22 I also had a strange feeling that I had never felt before. It was around eleven P.M. It was very gloomy, and the street was deserted. My body moved. My mind was empty, I couldn't think. When I woke up, my hands were around her neck. She was dead. I had strangled her.

One more day at the office. There is a lot to do, as usual. I don't want to. I'm tired of everything. My boss asked me to take care of a case. Recently, some girls suddenly disappeared. They were all blue-eyed and they were all found burnt.

I panicked. I didn't want to finish my life in jail. I decided to burn her. Now, I always do that. They've never caught me, so I think that's a good idea. I have killed eight girls. They were all blue-eyed. I don't know why, but when they look at me, I can't control my body.

One more screwy file. I'm tired of all those insane men.

Today, I was walking in the street, when a girl caught my attention. She was tall, thin, and had beautiful brown curly hair. She might be a model. She turned back and our eyes met. She had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They had the color of the sea near the coast. My body moved. I started talking to her. I had no idea what I was saying. My mind was empty, as usual. She was smiling, and what a smile! Very lovely. Before I could realize, we were walking. My body went to a back alley, hidden from the look of the crowd. I stopped. She stared at me with an innocent look, trying to understand why we were here. I softly touched her cheek. Her skin was smooth and soft. My hands slowly slid down her cheek and her chin. I put them around her neck and pressed. She opened her eyes wide and glazed at me with this limpid turquoise. Then, her eyes closed. She was dead. A tear

23 rolled on my cheek. I felt so guilty. Why have I done this?

It's boring It's quite calm today.. Awkward..

I laid her on the pavement. I took the flask that I always have in my pocket and poured petrol on the body. Then, I lighted a match and threw it. The body caught fire and I went away. Suddenly, I felt someone behind me. I turned back and saw a woman who was peering at me. I hid my face with my jacket and ran.

An old lady rushed into my office. She was panic-stricken and breathless by dint of running. She was screaming incomprehensible words. I told her to sit down and she related her story : I was in a narrow street. I went shopping and I was going back home when I saw a man and a woman. They looked as if they were in a relationship so I wasn't worried, but he started strangling her! " she sobbed. Ok madam, calm down. I need you to tell me what he looked like. " "Err... I'm not sure because I didn't have my glasses on... " "Focus, please. You're our only chance of finding him. I said harshly. "He was tall, around One meter and ninety I think.. He had blond hair! Quite short, but they looked very soft. He was young, around twenty-five? He was very handsome "Alright madam, thank you. Did you see other things which could help us to find him? " "I saw that he burnt the body. It was horrible! " she cried. I knew directly that he was the murderer I was looking for. All the crimes were related. I checked on my computer the suspects who fit the description made by the woman. The description wasn't precise, and a lot of criminals appeared on the screen. One drew my attention. He was from San Diego. He had been reported missing since the murder of his girlfriend, who was found burnt. She

24 was blue-eyed.

Why did I do that? I can still see her eyes staring at me. I can't deal with it anymore. Someone like me doesn't deserve to live.

I managed to find his address. He lived in a little flat in Brooklyn. I smashed the door open. He was lying on the parquet, in a pool of blood. He had committed suicide. I went back to the office. One more normal day, taking care of nutcases. I hate life.

25

A Matter of Life and Death

by Jules Roux
November 24th, 2012 First call

"West End Central, good morning." "Good morning," said the voice. "I would like to speak to the commissioner, please." "I am afraid it is impossible," retorted the secretary. "The commissioner made it clear that he
didnt want to be disturbed."

"Please," asked the voice gently. "I will say it again Sir, that is not possible." "All right," declared the voice. "This is a matter of life and death. I need to talk to him." "Okay. I suppose I dont have any other option," she added. "Wait a minute please." "Here is Commissioner Stewart. How can I help you sir?" "Well, you are going to listen to me carefully because I am not going to repeat it. I will commit
a murder somewhere in London. I am going to give you the time and date. It will be on November 26th at eight oclock."

26

"Wait a minute sir, what did you say you were going to do?"
The voice put down the phone and let the commissioner stunned. That was not the first time in his great career he had to face weird situations, but that was the first time a future killer gave that kind of detail about what he was going to do. Some people might have thought that the man behind the voice was a charlatan, nonetheless, something in his intonation was forcing Benjamin Stewart to believe the opposite of the thought that the man was lying. Therefore he decided to request a meeting with the Prime Minister, James Bronson.

The commissioner went to 10, Downing Street immediately after he had had the confirmation of his interview with the head of the government. The meeting took place in a small secondary living room of the building. Stewart briefly summed up the situation to the person he was speaking to.

"That is the worst thing that could happen to our careers, " moaned the Prime minister. "I am sorry to interrupt you sir, but lives are in danger. Dont you think your political success is
less important than your compatriots security?"

"Yes, you are right," agreed the politician. "Could you remind me of what he told you about the
date and time?"

"He explained that the murder would happen on November 26th at eight oclock " "Eight oclock?" broke in James Bronson. "Yes, that is what he said." "Did he specify if that was going to be at eight oclock in the morning or in the evening? " he
asked.

"No, I dont think he mentioned that fact," answered the policeman.

27 The Prime minister swore before adding:

"Do you understand what that means? We will have to protect the whole city for twelve hours
on a strike day!" roared the politician.

Benjamin Stewart was ordered to form a crisis cell composed of his best elements. However, on November 27th, 2012, the account of the explosion at St. Pancras Station could be read on every front page.

"4, 251 dead men!" shouted the Prime minister angrily. " I was counting on you to arrest that
mentally-ill person! You were supposed to prevent that carnage! What have you been doing? " Stewart couldnt look at the politician in the eye. He couldnt bear the idea that all those people had died because of his incompetence. He wasnt listening to the politician. In the end, the only words he could hear were: "I will give you a last chance to stop him. Do so."

December 1st, 2012 Crisis Meeting, West End Central

"If I understand well, we dont know what he is going to do, still less who he is and we have to
arrest him," asked a new member of the team.

"Yes, thats what we have to do," answered the commissioner at a loss. "You know," added another member of the cell, "this is like in Zodiac by David Fincher. The
only difference is that here it is for real."

28 December 4th, 2012 The Times

"Two children corpses were found in an abandoned car near the Tate Modern. The first
conclusions of the autopsy suggest that they died by strangulation in terrible conditions. Some people already think that there is a link between that horrible murder and last months terrorist attack."

January 15th, 2013 Second Call

"Ben Stewart?" asked the voice. "Here I am. Who am I speaking to?" "Dont be silly, Ben. You know who I am. What did you think of my Christmas presents? " "You are crazy, that is all I have to say. What do you want?" asked the commissioner nervously. "I will give you a last chance to arrest me. Tonight I will kill four people at the Tower of
London"

January 16th, 2013 Crisis Meeting

"I found him!" shouted a detective. "Look, thats him, the man wearing blue jeans! Thats the
only person to appear in every video from the various surveillance cameras! "

29 January 17th, 2013 The Sun

"Darren McBurroughs, the serial killer who has been frightening London for months was arrested
yesterday" Five months after the end of those bloody incidents and the arrest of a suspect, Benjamin Stewart was taking his official car to go to a commissioners council. He had been recognized as the brilliant investigator who had managed to put the most terrifying murderer in England since Jack the Ripper behind bars. He was sitting in his vehicle when he felt a vibration on his thigh: his mobile phone was ringing. He had a new message. Stewart didnt know the number that had sent him that message, however he decided to read it:

"Are you truly convinced you won, Ben?"

June 26th, 2013 BBC News

"The police commissioner in office Benjamin Walter Stewart had been missing since Tuesday
evening. His burnt to a cinder corpse has been discovered in the debris of a car which exploded two days ago. The police now is investigating to find out if the commissioner accidentally died or if he was the victim of a cold-blooded murder"

30

A dinner to die
by Enki Saura
That day, I had decided to please Sonia. It was her birthday and this time I wanted to cook the best birthday dinner she had ever had. Canaps first, a French recipe, secondly a salad with everything I would find in my fridge and finally a huge hamburger with French fries. And I forgot the dog-shaped cake. She's crazy about her dog, and I think she prefers her dog to her husband. I went out with her, however she got married with my brother. My brother, Chris, was also here that night. He's a real lout but whatever, he's gentle with me and Sonia. I'm not used to cooking, but when I do it's generally pasta. I can't remember the last time I took a pan. I dropped the French fries on the ground and I burnt the salad (who had told me to bake it?). But the canaps were quite good, in spite of their suspicious bluish color, and the cake was a success ! Someone was knocking. I powdered my right hand and I opened the door. Happy birthday! I said before holding her warmly. I shook my brother's hand and we went to the living room. I washed my hands and opened my last Chteau Margaux bottle from 1983, her birth year. I served three glasses of it, put them down on the living room's coffee table, and put Marilyn Manson's Sweet dreams. I take drugs, I can't drink explained Sonia shyly. So I'll drink your glass I nicely answered. After having eaten the canaps, and because the dinner didn't look good anymore, we decided to go to the restaurant. Half an hour later, we took the decision to eat in the hard rock

31 cafe. And here we were: waiting at the bar for a table to be free. We'd just been arguing, my brother and I, about Sonia's dog, named after me. Ever since Sonia and Chris had gotten married, we were always arguing. I suffered from the break-up. She said she couldn't love someone who hated dogs. Finally we sat down for dinner. How are your parents? Chris asked Sonia, trying to start a new conversation. They've just bought a new skyscraper answered my step-sister. Are they starting up a new business? I asked innocently. Oh no, they only have space for about thirty guests. Her parents are so wealthy they could buy the Eiffel Tower just to have tea and a view on Paris. Sonia is the heir to her parents fortune and if she dies Chris will become the heir. My brother hates his stepparents and would like them to die (in a natural way of course). A dessert, guys? suggested the waiter. We refused: I had cooked a special cake for Sonia. Don't lie to me! those words the inspector told my brother, came with a slap in his face. The cake was tasty however Sonia had collapsed a few minutes after eating it. Then we were at the police station and she was at the morgue. We've found poison on your hands inspector Da Costa said. I did not kill her! responded my brother. At this moment he was crying. I had never seen him like that and it made me feel sorry. Could you please stop lying? We've found the same poison in the cake and on your hands. We've all eaten this cake and we're still alive! Moreover I didn't cook it, he did! and he pointed at me. I have never hated him more than then. Da Costa explained: You just had to put an antidote in your glass and in your brother's and then to put drug into the cake. Finally we would have thought your brother killed your wife. Everything became silent in the interrogation room while Chris was looking for a way to prove his innocence. What would my motive be? An unknown detective burst into the room: Miss Da Costa, I need to tell you something... The detective left the place and Da Costa followed him.

32 It only took about five minutes and she came back. So what are you going to do? said my brother getting anxious, Are you going to release me because you can't find any motive? However Da Costa immediately answered Your step-parents died this morning: their skyscraper has collapsed, and you are the only heir. I think the jury will accept this motive . As she was taking him away, she told me You're free sir. I'm wondering what to do after such a special night. It's twenty past four and the TV program is as boring as usual. Fortunately I can read this short story about how to kill one's step-sister, while the poison and the antidote are burning in my fireplace. Never trust the cake: I think that's a nice morale.

33

First Kill
by Helene Le corre

ill. What does it feel like when your heart falls in darkness? When you desperately try to control yourself, to think about the people you love, not to let the beast in you dominate

your mind Is it relieving or exhausting? It happened quickly, suddenly. She didnt feel any pain, fear, or regrets, she only wished there was another solution. However, it was as she had always known it would happen like that. Her first real satisfaction, her first kill. Jess was a beautiful lady who drew mens attention thanks to her catching blue eyes, and she could have become a fashion model if she had intended to. She kept one of the necklaces her first husband had offered her. It was a strange pendant with a red, creepy eye and she always wore it. Jessica Fletcher owed her fame to her first book, the thriller Flirt with Death. The thirty-two-year-old-woman was a talented revelation and knew it. Actually, as her husband Stefan used to say If vanity and contempt were ruby and emerald, Jess would be a jewelry safe! Nonetheless, this handsome business man loved used to love and respect his wife. They met at a conference about the perfect crime, since they both had a passion for detective stories and thrillers. Jessica fell for the charming and seductive gentleman, who stood for the wealthiest and most handsome guy of his generation, and when he offered her a beautiful red rose, she got totally in love. Thus, six months later, they were married. And yet, Jessica soon had many disappointments and often felt blue. Her husband was cheating on her,

34 and in spite of his money, he did not give her any presents, did not even spend time with her. To avoid the boredom, Jessica thought about leaving one of her dreams, write a thriller. Thanks to the success of this novel, she became a well-known writer and her fans soon asked for a second one. That day, Jessica felt glad for several reasons, but mainly because it was her birthday. She planned to settle down in New York in a few months with her lover, Harry, without even thinking of her husbands reaction. She knew Harry, through a common friend, and she loved him passionately. Her future seemed filled with the promise of a great love story, and, as she had almost finished her second thriller, she was in a really good mood. She had just decided to continue her novel, when she heard a slamming door and made out Stefan who was coming nearer. Ironically, he declared Not finished yet! And you pretend youre talented He bent forward, gazed at the book and sneered at his wife You should write a real story, this one is pathetic! And he left, in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, letting his wife on the verge of tears. Alone in the tiny room, Jessica suddenly hurled the book away, losing her control. Then, she came to a standstill, staggered; she collapsed and burst into tears. After a few minutes, she gave vent to her rage, and decided to show her husband what she was capable of. She threw the book in the fireplace and sat at her desk with a new paper. In her usually sweet eyes, there was a frightening light when she began to imagine the story.

In a huge and impressive manor, lived a woman, nicknamed the Lady and her husband. The wife used to be an innocent and honest young woman; nonetheless, her life with a so heartless man had changed her personality. She became contemptuous and disdainful; she didnt care for anybody else and was known as an idle and hypocritical lady. However, one thing made her better: while she was writing, her true qualities were revealed and everybody could see her as a sensitive young woman again. Cruel and harmful, the husband stood as a lonely, but well-off man. They both were stunning and everybody asked

35

them to attend the different balls, parties or dances although they didnt agree once. Despite their promising first years together, soon they started to hate each other. Nobody knew why they kept living in the same manor house, sharing their lives, having the same routine The Lady had a lover and her husband had many mistresses. The couples relations got worse and worse and arguments after arguments, they often flared up. Harry, a young hunter and the Ladys swain, was greedy for money: that was the only reason he pretended to love her. They had talked about leaving the country but Harry did not really mean it. The woman continued to write in order not to have a breakdown, as her husband jeered at her all the time. She could not stand this situation anymore and thus, one day, that was enough. She borrowed one of Harrys knives and hid it under her bed. At midnight, she strained her ears in order to hear echoing footsteps, and as she heard a creaking door, she understood her terrifying husband was back. Then, she called him and hid behind her rooms door. As he arrived, she abruptly and angrily stubbed him with all her strength. He tried to grab the knife in his chest, failed, and slumped on the ground in a muffled noise. Without hesitating, she put on the jewel she loved the most, a necklace with a red eye, in his hand.
Calmly, Jessica stepped over Stefans dead body and sighed satisfied: You were right, Stefan! I should have taken inspiration from real stories a long time ago My fans can thank you. She phoned Harry, and two hours later, when the police finally arrived at the crime scene, warned by the neighbors of suspicious movements in the house, she was gone to New York. Inspector Swan, accompanied by a new policeman, a novice, discovered the body and the jewel in his hand. In the middle of the messy room, on the desk, there was a finished manuscript: First Kill.

36

The Trainees Spider

by Pauline Brosseron

My

name is John Bagtocks. I am a trainee at Scotland Yard, working hard to prepare to the exam to join the police academy. I dont get paid but I have the privilege of

doing a lot of practical work, meaning everything the inspectors have no time to do. There are some rewards: I go through files, lots of them. Sometimes they even let me answer the phone. And this time it was for a real case. Not just pizza delivery. It was Emrick Yoly, a Scotland Yard inspector, also my training supervisor. Johnny boy! Yes inspector, how can I help you? Believe it or not, we need your help. Drop off what you were pretending to do and come as fast as the tube will let you at 25 Flezard Street, apartment 23. He welcomed me with a few words upon arriving. There is a dead body and too few inspectors, so you will assist me. Dont say youre happy to work on a case, I already know it. Her name was Amanda Jones. She was a 43-year-old businesswoman, single, and lying on the floor, no signs of violence. Suntanned, wearing colorful clothes and sneakers, she seemed to

37 have just come back from holiday. Indeed, I found an airline ticket and a voucher from a club resort, in a Caribbean island, in her purse. The entrance door was broken in but the house was tidy except for her suitcase, wide open and its content a mess. The next day at the station, I waited all afternoon to know what had killed her when I finally received the phone call. Hello, yes. Tell me what it is? I screamed at the other person on the phone. Hello Mr. Bagtocks, I am not deaf, you know, no need to shout. The results from the tests show Miss Jones was indeed murdered, poisoned actually, with a very dangerous substance, only found in South America said Grace Miller, the coroners assistant. I asked the inspector permission to go the sanctuary also known as the archives room. I flipped through countless files looking for a similar case. I talked with one of the archivists and asked him if he knew one. And he did! I remember a case, some guy found dead, murdered with some exotic poison. The murderer was never found he added. I did some more research about this murder. It had happened one and a half year ago. The victim was Thomas Mc Grey, 36, single, decent position in an insurance company. His body was found in his house near Blueberry Street, in a cozy quiet suburb where murders were only on TV. The only link was the poison. I couldnt find any answers to my questions. I talked to the inspector who told me You havent found anything, then go back to the files and resume your research. Checking for old evidence, I found out that Grey came from San Teodoro, the same island and even from the same holiday resort. I started a search on this island. Notorious for his many holiday resorts and all kinds of entertainments, some of them almost immoral or illegal, the island is also known for drugs. But except for the same taste on holiday and the same kind of death, these two had nothing in common.

38 A few days later, I reported my lack of progress and disappointment to the inspector. Johnny boy, he told me grumpily, this is a real case in real working life. Back to the files and to the evidence. Enough files, I thought. So I decided to go back to Mrs. Jones house. I scanned every small corner and detail but still could find nothing. Out of frustration, I was about to leave the house when I noticed a taxi bill next to the entrance. Since the taxi driver might have been one of the last persons to see Ms. Jones alive, why not meet him? I did not want to ask for the inspectors help again so I called the company. The manager was very happy to oblige Chief Inspector Yoly. They were so kind as to tell me the drivers usual routes and airport spots. I asked the inspector if I had expenses to pick up a taxi to go to the airport to find a taxi. I proceeded to the airport with the tube ticket, courtesy of the office, and looked for the Caribbean flights arrival gate. Lucky day, my taxi was waiting. I skipped a few passengers with my authentic plastic police badge in order to manage to pick the right one. Time for my first questioning about a murder. I boarded the taxi and asked to go to 25 Flezard Street, Mrs. Joness apartment. The driver did not react the way I expected. Actually he just agreed and started driving. We had just left the airport when I asked: Do you often come here, to the airport? He answered: Well sir, for taxi drivers, airports are good places to make money. Not wrong, silly me. Why were you at the gate of the Caribbean arrivals? I asked. Why not? he said. Do you remember this person? showing him a photo of the late Mrs. Jones. Suddenly things happened fast. So, youre police he answered in a very unpleasant voice. He grabbed a box from the dashboard and threw a small grey thing at me. I looked on my jacket, there was a spider and

39 I fainted. I woke up in a police car. Inspector Yoly wasnt supposed to know about my investigation, or so I thought. But, he did and followed me. When I fainted in the car, he overtook the taxi, stopped him and arrested the driver. The taxi driver later admitted that he worked for a drug ring. Single travelers in a resort were spotted. Drug was put in their suitcase with a deadly spider to kill them if they opened the bag containing the drug. Two had been too curious.

March 2013 Rocroy Saint-Vincent de Paul Front cover by Mariama Conteh